Moments in Permutations
by Honore - Form. MerlintoVivian
Summary: Observations of the scenes in-between, glimmering among the shards that float through eternity. Chapter-by-chapter short story collection about this game.
1. First

Author's Note: This is a Shurpuff work, done by **Shurpuff**, nephew of **Merlin**, owner of this account, used with his permission.

Agarest War Generations does not belong to me, but to its owners.

Okay, to start off, I was familiar with this title when I still had my 360, but I passed since I really wasn't into "japanese stuff" back then. Now with a release on PC, I was free to play it on a platform I still have, while also now able to kind of appreciate the japanese games. So, on to this. While I thought Agarest War was just a pretty decent game, what I loved most about it was one of its mechanics that managed to create this whole bunch of characters throughout the entire game. Everything else felt kind of incomplete, rushed, or too grindy (referring to gameplay). The many gaps that were left unscripted in the story are what I feel is good ground for fanfiction development. I mean, you can cover almost anything with the world these developers built, filling in the gaps if you like but also creating new scenarios that aren't really far-fetched. So it got to like I was playing the game and I kept on thinking, "what if?" or "this definitely would have happened in-between this scene and the last one", and so on. So without further ado, I begin my series of small, or short stories about the many stories I thought up about this game, _Agarest War: Generations._

* * *

She wakes up, and is once more aware of the gulf of time that has passed.

Long ago she made a pledge, to carry on doing what he could not. Glad and grateful, she agreed. Years pass-an instant it seems-and there were many lives entangled with hers along the way. So many of these are dear to her, and she would never forget the experience to the end of her days.

She is almost always happy when she wakes, for almost always she is by her husband's side, who is still sleeping and dreaming the good man's dream. Lines have appeared on the weathered face, which had seen many battles and borne many scars. At times when she wakes thus, she is reminded of his valor, his strength. She compares it to the small adorable cherub face entrusted to her by a no less heroic woman, who took her place by her beloved's side without compunction. He has endured much since then, taking on an unenviable burden readily, much like he did, perhaps greater still.

But in the other times she wakes, the memory of him is vivid, so clear that the world is blurred by a surface of tears that have sprung as if from nowhere. He is golden like the sun, strong as a lion, kindly, thoughtful, and wholly devoted to his duty. The perfect man. And she curses herself, in the language of her husband's and her people's, for feeling this wretched, conflicted, torn.

Her companions had warned of this so many times, even joked about it on many sober and un-sober occasions, but it was only after their child had already begun to wave practice sticks in the air, when most of her dreams are filled with him, that she realizes that the ache is still there.

It burns to the touch, far crueler than any monster spell.

And she knows she is being unfair, to him, to her friends, her husband and especially her child. The first had made his decision long ago, when she was too young to know what sacrifice entailed. And then there is her beloved-and when she thinks of him, the old fear returns, speaking in the voices of many of her companions, admonishing, mocking, concerned.

But no, Rex was no substitute. She loved him, dearly. They are family now. He is precious to her.

Were Borgnine here, he would probably have things to say. But her husband's declaration of independence from all things divine had sent him away, and so her last and only confidant was herself.

She'd make it. She'd endured through so much. She'd earned this happiness.

_Many times she wakes, flushed, teary-eyed, the memory of a faraway time behind her eyes, and she turns to the window, finding solace in the moonlit sky. _

_One time she wakes, and whispers to herself, with a sigh and a chuckle._

_"You're a pitiless man."_

_Why couldn't you have taken me with you?_


	2. It Runs in the Family

Author's Note: This is a Shurpuff work, done by **Shurpuff**, nephew of **Merlin**, owner of this account, used with his permission.

Agarest War Generations does not belong to me, but to its owners.

Wiki says there's little possibility of this happening, but fanfiction has a clause that allows me to. It's under the "But what if it _is_ possible?" section of the rulebook I know is out there somewhere.

* * *

_"Where are you off to?" said Lavinia._

_"To run," said Thoma, brightly. "It's about time I sweat this dreadful chill off. I bid you good night, my sweet ebon darling, and beg you to dream of me in your sleep. I shall stare at the moon later and marvel how its perfection can never surpass yours."_

_Halfway through, the elf had returned inside her tent, leaving Thoma to shrug and jog off into the night. Ellis, Plum and Vira-Lorr watched him go._

_"How unusual," said Plum. "Dear Thoma seems to get away from the group a whole lot."_

_"A man can get tired from constant rejections. Give him time to repair his ego," said Vira-Lorr._

_"It's also _that_ time again..." murmured Ellis._

_"Huh? What do you mean?"_

_The other women shared a look. A mischievous smile broke on Vira-Lorr's face._

**Fendias**

"I don't see what the big deal is," said Lavinia. She hung back from the rest of the group, leaning against the tavern's closed door.

"It's about Thoma, Lavinia. You know, _Thoma_," the diminutive Plum said.

"So?" the dark elf said, a bit aggressively.

"Don't you feel even a wee bit curious?" said Sharona, who was seated nursing a hot cup of tea. She wasn't visibly drunk-at least, not anymore.

"Yeah, where's your adventurous spark?" said Noah, grinning.

"The less I know of that uncouth man, the better," Lavinia replied, scoffing. "I don't see how this benefits us, _or _our quest. Anyway, if it's a secret some of you know, why not tell the rest of us?"

"But it's less fun that way!" Noah protested.

"Lavinia, think of it as your way of getting one over that dirty monkey of a man," Vira-Lorr offered.

After a short pensive pause, Lavinia shook herself. "It still seems shifty. Even if he weren't merely a perverted enemy of women, I still don't like having a peek into his secrets like this." Her eyes shifted to her sister's. "Everyone should have a right to their own secrets."

"Lavinia," Ellis said cheerfully. "I caught Thoma sneaking in and out of your bedroom at our last tavern."

Equally as cheerfully, Lavinia replied, "I'm gonna peel him like an onion."

"Good!" said Ellis, clapping her hands together. "Now that we're all agreed, we move on to The Plan."

**Much later**

Running into Ellis and Faina earlier, faces flushed, arms and legs intertwined, panting and sweaty with their dresses in clear disrepair, should have alerted him that something was afoot. He'd left after leaving some very suggestive comments involving rope and gloves, and right before his adoptive mother could explode. The fact that she hadn't chased him after should've been another clue, but his mood was still light while savoring the memory of that ripe scene.

"...might...be...too big... hot..."

He paused to listen, ducking through the alley and under the window. Trained skills dimmed his battle presence, and he was as well hidden here now as a tiger in the bush.

Plum? He mouthed, now recognizing the voice.

"...how to...grip...wonder...okay to..." The nelth's words were separated by numerous gasps, as if she were handling something big and heavy.

"Pwah! I need some air-!" The window suddenly opened, and Thoma barely squeezed into a conveniently located crate nearby to hide. Taking a small peek, he spied Plum now, visible beads of sweat on her face. Her hair was undone, sticking in places to her moist white neck. She fanned herself vigorously, evidently in the middle of doing some strenuous work and opened the window to cool off. He watched, curious, as the nelth paused, looking up and down the alley before beginning to unbutton the front of her dress.

_By the gods of light and purity! _He hightailed it out with a secret art, right before he could see any further. Taking discreet peeks at women was one thing, but girls (or one who looked like one) were out of the question. He panted heavily, caressing the back of his pants before leaping over a wooden fence and back onto the busy street.

_Made it, _he assured himself. He recovered his humor, now swaggering through town with a pleased look in his face.

"Thomaaaa!" The shout came from nowhere, and before he knew it Thoma was bowled over by something from behind. Recovering quickly, he grasped whatever it was firmly, then felt a sudden jolt when he saw who it was.

"Thoma, were you the one who stole my clothes?" cried an almost-naked Noah, her body slick with water and her eyes burning with fury. All she had on was a piece of drying cloth that she wore like a tunic, and nothing else. At the moment she had the front of his clothes in a death grip.

"No, no, you have it all wrong my dear!" Thoma protested, averting his eyes-a little too late-from the woman's near brazen behavior. He was painfully aware of this fact, as well as the fact that the girl wasn't minding the cold, nor that she was straddling him bare-naked. Teeth chattering slightly, he remembered where the bath was, and explained it to the treasure hunter. "Ellis and Faina could tell you I was just at our inn. I couldn't have gone to the other end of town from there and then back here in just two minutes!"

"Hmmm..." Noah still didn't look convinced, though she relaxed her hold. Something twitched in her face, some sort of restrained anger, Thoma figured. Not willing to be at the other end of that, Thoma did what any sensible man would do: blame someone else.

"But I think I remember teacher mention going to the bathing grounds this morning, but I dare not contemplate him actually stealing-"

"Winfield!" Noah shouted, and off she went like a bullet. Thoma didn't dare stare after her, still trying to rein in something from getting loose inside him. He raised his eyebrows at the number of people who'd witnessed the scene, to which he smiled and shrugged, like he was sharing a private joke with the public. Had the young man been of cooler mind, he would've been more than slightly disturbed to learn his mentor might have given in to the darkness inside him and resorted to that sort of perverted thievery, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

He dusted himself off, ruminating in the middle of the road, before turning around to find himself face-to-face with Sharona, her eyes as cool as the weather. Her argent hair was damp and wildly undone, as if she was just fresh from the baths. Many other males gawked at her while they passed by; Thoma thought them lucky to see such a rare sight of Sharona with her hair as wild as it was.

"Thoma." He saw a stack of clothes in her hand, which he quickly saw to be Noah's. "Be a dear: find that girl and give these to her. Somehow adventuring doesn't excuse one from making absent-minded mistakes."

"You would be willing to entrust me with such a precious bundle?" said Thoma, already regretting not running after Noah. "My dear Sharona, what an honor!"

"It's not like I trust you," the syrium said, scoffing. "I just know you. You're not really going to do anything with these, notwithstanding the pain the owner of these will unleash if she finds out. You'll be doing me proud, kid, no matter what you say."

"I am flattered by your-"

"Yes, yes, you are. Now shoo. Sooner or later that girl's gonna remember what continent she's on and she's going to wish she hadn't ran out on me." As she passed by him, Thoma caught the familiar whiff of her fresh bath fragrance, and it called to mind unbidden childhood memories that somehow made his heart race.

Thoma caught himself breathing hard, and the pile of clothes in his hands, still having some leftover warmth in them, didn't do well to assuage the feelings boiling up. Noah's faint scent came wafting up, and it mixing with Sharona's nearly bowled him over.

_No no! Control! Control! _He was mortified to find that he was shaking, and not just from the cold.

And just when he thought things couldn't go any worse, Vira-Lorr and Lavinia emerged from the tavern just across the road, and their voices made it clear they'd done an unusual early morning bender. More unusual for the latter than the former, for various reasons. He swallowed, quickly stowing Noah's clothes away as Vira-Lorr caught sight of him and waved, beaming.

"And _there's _the man in question! Come, Lavinia, we shall soon put your fears to rest."

"Thomaaaaa..." The tone of her voice definitely sounded like it didn't come from "normal" Lavinia.

The young man retreated back inside the inn, walking backward further with his legs constantly banging against the tables and the chairs, his eyes wide and heart beating wildly. All pretenses seemed to fail, and he seemed just another tongue-tied youth. _No! _He decided. _Teacher, bless his name, has taught me well!_ Suave, smooth, courteous, forward, cultured! A lady killer must have nothing else.

The door slammed open, and the dark elf stood at the threshold, eyes glittering manically. Quite the unusual sight for the normally aloof Lavinia, and one which should have sent the astute thinking, but Thoma was too busy to try to figure out how to handle the situation.

"Greetings, my sweets," he ventured cautiously. "What is the occasion for thy wondrous presence on this pleasant day?"

"Go get him," said Vira-Lorr from behind Lavinia. Both of their faces were flushed.

"Yeah!" said Lavinia, who stalked forward with a predatory air about her. "I've got something to talk with you about, Thoma."

"W-what, pray tell?" His eyes buggered out when the elf sauntered over, moving her hips from side to side with a most seductive air. _Ah, _he thought. _This was a prank, or a dare led on by Vira-Lorr. I know her that much-and possibly roped this poor girl into it from a punishment game or some sort. _

Winfield Love Advice to the rescue!

_"Should a target return your advances-wait, why is there even a need to be a lesson for this? Take the plunge! Take the plunge! Take it, you lucky bastard!"_

That seemed to be of little help, and Lavinia was already well within kissing range. At least, her face was.

"My my, Lavinia. Has the curse been lifted from your gaze?" He swallowed. He was well aware of the intoxicating effect the elf's closeness had on him, which played havoc on his ironclad control. "Do you now feel what you've denied all this time-"

He could almost feel her breath on him now, smelling sweet and flowery mixed with a slight does of alcohol. It sent a frenzy of alarms off in his mind.

"All your talk of propositions, proposals or something of the sort aren't all true, right~~? In truth, in truth, you're still as innocently pure as most men..." Contact! They were now establishing contact. Any other time he'd be pleased but-

Deciding to recover some of his panache, Thoma chuckled, dipping his mouth low enough to almost meet hers. "Really now, Lavinia," he whispered, "If you really desired to find comfort in my arms, you should've but asked! I will not deny you anything in my power."

Was that a moan of delight? From _Lavinia_? "Thank you that's so so sweet of you, I could kiss you kiss you kiss you, right now..." Her lips were puckering!

But when he withdrew quickly from the front, Thoma felt a soft, squashy sensation at his back. He turned to find Vira-Lorr holding on to his other arm, blocking his escape.

"That's all too much injustice, my dear!" the oneltes said, and now Thoma found two intoxicating-no, _intoxicated_-flowers pushing their faces towards his. "You can't monopolize something this precious. Not if I've a say in it, at least..."

"V-Vira-Lorr," he said, "Isn't this enough? It was all kinds of amusing, and you're rest assured I won't seek coarse vengeance-"

"What's the matter, boy? Are you not versed in all the manners of love? Don't get cold-" she breathed a puff into his neck, immediately sending goose bumps rising. "-feet now."

"Hey! Woman! I know I've got you to thank, but keep your hands off _my _prize!" Lavinia snarled, and now he felt the entire front of her body pressed against his arm as if it were some sort of lifeline.

Winfield Love Advice! _"If in between a rock and a hard-" _This was hardly a hard place to be! Of all the times for teacher to be proven wrong! Being popular is badverybad-

"Desist, harlot. You've had your chance with Thoma's father and grandfather-or so I've heard. Walk away or this dark elf will end you." He was pulled forward.

"Fledglings like you need to learn your bitter place." He heard a rustling of belts, but in the haze his mind was in, he couldn't identify what it was. "I know things that would send men like Thoma and even _you_ dear, spiraling into the heavens."

"Mine!~"

"No!"

As he was being pushed and pulled, something he was pushing deep beneath the surface was now being pulled back by the side of him he despised. A raw instinct that took hold of his thoughts, rendering them moot.

_Dear father and mother... I despise you so much._

"Thoma, here!" Pulled forward; just a bit and he'd really have kissed Lavinia.

"Here, boy," whispered Vira-Lorr, who put her mouth to his ear and sighed.

_Noooo! _he screamed inside.

There was a ripping sound, then a loud _Fwip! _then, and there Thoma felt like crawling into the deepest hole in Fendias. His guilty, furry secret, revealed in all its glory, wagged left and right rapidly like it belonged to an excited puppy.

Vira-Lorr snickered. "Good boy," she said, patting him on the head.

"Oh. My. God." said Lavinia, eyes wide, acting like she hadn't been close to jumping him a few moments ago."You've got-"

"No! Please!"

"So? So? So? What's the secret? The secret?" There was a crash, and then more than half of the group was there at the door, peering in. Noah, who was strangely fully-clothed, immediately burst into laughter.

"Wow... That's cute, Thoma..." said Faina, gazing at his happily wagging tail like it was something cute.

"Isn't it?" Vira-Lorr crooned. Thoma saw Ellis cover her face; he recognized it as her trying to stifle a bout of laughter.

"Y-y-y-you've got a-" Lavinia continued.

"Indeed it is..." murmured Plum. "I can't believe you'd keep this a secret from us for so long, Thoma! Wait till I tell Alberti-"

"Oh good god no."

"Don't worry, Plum," said Sharona, smiling softly. "Alberti knows. Vashtor had to tell him. 'Security purposes' is what he called it. In case some impersonator comes along. Although-now that you mention it, Ganz doesn't know. We should go get him."

"Please don't, I'm begging you all..." The thought of Alberti knowing but never mentioning it somehow lifted his spirit, though on second thought it seemed as if the man were embarrassed for him.

"You've got a tail!?"

Thoma could only whimper.

_Ladifour was free to decide his life up to the point of his destiny. None of his companions had ever had the thought in their minds to judge his decisions, whether in the manners of war-or love. So on that fateful day when all was said and done in Gracceia, on the day he revealed his feelings for the first time, no one was surprised to learn he'd chosen the neocol, Sherufanir. She'd been a great companion: good friend on the road, excellent drinking partner, who sang songs and told stories at camp (in the manner of a certain someone whom some of the group knew in the past but were reluctant to talk about), and had one of the stickiest fingers on the continent-a boon for the group's finances when they were sure Ladius wasn't looking._

_When his time was up, Ladius and the rest fulfilled his destiny, leaving behind his legacy: a yawning baby with piercing eyes. _

_It also had a bit of a "concern", at least for those who were to raise Ladius' child._

_"I think it's cute," Sharona declared._

_"It'll endear him more to people," offered Vira-Lorr._

_"It might seem unusual," Zerva said. _

_"I do not understand the hesitation, friends. Is it not natural for one who had parents as those? Something that is natural can never be as bad as some may think; it is simply how it is, and must be given due respect." said Arbol in his mellifluous way._

_When the women in the group saw the thing wagging, they each cooed and giggled. _

_"It's not a big deal," Ellis concluded, holding up the tuft. _

"How can it not be a big deal?" Thoma asked himself many times as he grew up. As he now did, during this embarrassing incident. No one would ever live it down.

The trials of a hero are great indeed.


	3. Lucrellia, the Golden Land

Author's Note: This is a Shurpuff work, done by **Shurpuff**, nephew of **Merlin**, owner of this account, used with his permission.

Agarest War Generations does not belong to me, but to its owners.

No characters were corrupted by outside, malingering forces or by their own mortal weaknesses in the making of this story. *whistles a jaunty tune*

* * *

_Mercury, Guardian God, was sealed in Lucrellia. His domain encompasses commerce and all sorts of crafts, essential tools for a growing civilization._

"Even in your greatness, a man is still, unmistakably, a man. Mortal, proud and short-sighted," she said.

"I've only one life to lead," he declared with a gaze that brooked no dissent.

"Very well. Your choice is made."

"I'm sorry Dyshana."

"Yes," she said, "I am sorry as well." She slipped away into the darkness, away from the light of the camp and from their lives-forever.

Under the banner of the Golden Leo, peace was brokered among all nations in Lucrellia. Although many, including the Emperor of Gridamas, had to be executed publicly for their part in the crimes against the people, the end result made the price all the more bearable. Those foolish enough to resist after peace was proclaimed, who dared upset the new order with threats of anarchy and bloodshed, were put down swiftly, and always with the Golden Leo leading at the front.

Through the intercession of his consorts, the syrium and all other races were integrated into his Empire peacefully, the nation of Rigulus was peacefully dissolved (though as ever, the disappearance of its last king was a regrettable circumstance), and all the warring human factions were brought to heel.

With the guidance of Leonhardt's trusted advisors, towns and villages flourished throughout Lucrellia, united under just laws, progressive trade and industry, and a citizenry who no longer feared abuse or discrimination: all of them were equal under one Emperor. Any who dared violate this was swiftly put to death. Cunning technologies were put to good use as everything became systematized: farms, mines, the bureaucracy, and many others. A network of roads was established and vigorously patrolled by the Empire's finest. Adventurers could earn handsome commissions for continued service against monsters, for assisting the local Guard in domestic problems, and for retrieving lost or requested materials. Artists and bards sprouted in every neighborhood, spinning tales and weaving songs that celebrated Great Lucrellia, or the Lion's valor, or the incomparable beauty of his consorts. Over time, towns became prefectures, prefectures united into cities, and cities transformed into large sprawling capitals.

While the Empire had to endure sporadic assaults from the forces of darkness, none really had any cause to fear, as the Golden Leo would always be there to spearhead the forces of the just and the light. He was their constant protector, and had never failed to uphold his vow of guardianship.

It was not long before capitals full to bursting with wealth and prosperity began petitioning for autonomy. Leonhardt, more than halfway through his life now and more engaged with the intrigues of his court, gave them leave, setting a dangerous precedent that would only be felt in Emperor Julian's reign two hundred years later, during the First Lucrellian Civil War.

But for the time being, all was right in Lucrellia, and more importantly, in Leonhardt's world. He had people to love and who loved him in return, a growing family to protect, a nation under his bootheel and all the time in the world. The branch that would form the main Imperial Line came from the fourth consort, the high elf Ellis, who would become the ancestor of a powerful sub-race of human-elven hybrids.

Nothing more was ever known about the mysterious Dark Knight, who became the primary adversary in plays written about the Golden Leo and so faded into the role of a bogeyman to scare Lucrellian children. In contrast, much more was said about Leonhardt's torrid relationships with his consorts. Nothing was ever said of Dyshana, who'd disappeared long ago, and the records are content with leaving it at that.

For more than two centuries Lucrellia became the shining beacon of light and hope among the continents, until the Final Darkness came, which swallowed the whole of Agarest, including mighty Lucrellia, in its maws.


	4. Shot through the Heart

Author's Note: This is a Shurpuff work, done by **Shurpuff**, nephew of **Merlin**, owner of this account, used with his permission.

Agarest War Generations does not belong to me, but to its owners.

Damn school delaying me so long... Originally this was longer but the second part seemed to take on a life of its own (like say, its own chapter). It was also a little unpolished in places, so I decided to just upload first part.

* * *

"How does he do it?" Murmina asked, for what seemed to be the fifth time since she'd joined their group. Over the makeshift barricade set up by Ganz and Arbol, a few monsters filtered through, forced to crawl or fly over or ooze through the gaps. With their piecemeal entrance limiting their ability to swarm, Rex and the rest could pick off enemies as they appeared, one by one.

Rex especially had a high time of it, aiming, shooting a monster in a vital part and reloading in the span of three seconds. With that ridiculous feat of marksmanship, he racked in more kills in a single battle than either she or Winfield. Now Winfield was an acknowledged lout who, while displaying certain prowess in picking out vulnerable enemies from the lot, could easily be outgunned in a straight-up shoot. She on the other hand, had been trained under a teacher (may his soul find rest) who was heir to a long, century-spanning tradition of Uttara Kulu marksmanship. She'd been but a novice when her home fell, true, but her skill was such that she could spot and spit a moving target from thirty paces dead on, with it none the wiser. Only her old masters and/or divine beings could have better aim and precision, and apparently now one so-called Hero of Agarest.

"One of my grandfather's best stories," said Beatrice, who was assigned to watch the western pass for an enemy flanking maneuver, "Was that of Trigger-king Thoma and his sidekick, Noah the Longstrider." Someone snorted, and the two turned towards the diminutive Ellis. She was here at the rear-guard, ready to heal anybody who got wounded-though no one seemed remotely in danger of that, thanks to Rex. The elf kept her eyes on the latter, though her gaze seemed farther than that.

"Did Alberti really tell it like that?" said Ellis. Her voice seemed amused. "I guess it's not too far off the truth."

"Thoma could shoot a weapon off a monster, leaving it well unharmed as an act of mercy," Beatrice continued. "'Twas a bitter mercy, for then the monster was trapped alone in the wilds of cold Fendias, where even the minions of darkness had much to fear from the wilds."

"It's kinda hard to deny the kid ever had skill," said Ellis, nodding. "As is the thought of Thoma even learning to use it from that idiot over there." She nodded towards Winfield, who was far away and whose back was the only thing visible them.

"He learned at the feet of a master," said Beatrice. This time, both Murmina and Ellis stifled a snort of laughter, causing Beatrice to look between them in confusion.

"He learned too much, in my opinion," Ellis said. "Things totally unrelated to using his weapon."

"Yes," said Beatrice. "Grandfather talked much of his passions."

"'Passions' is understating Thoma's own existence, Beatrice." Ellis smiled quickly, then took a deep breath. "But we all liked him, we all loved him, despite his faults. He had the markings of a true hero, through and through."

"And from him, the legendary marksmanship of the Golden Leo's line was established," Beatrice continued to narrate.

"You're talking about Duran now, huh. That kid was a different sort of difficult."

"Yet he inherited the prodigious skill with his father's preferred weapon. He traversed Enhambre, a hand ever on the holster, eyes as sharp as a hawk's. They called him Duran Dark-hunter, though they heard the monsters call him the Slayer in whispers."

"I think, of all the heroes, Duran was the best. He had no fuss to him when he shot: unlike Thoma, he didn't gesture needlessly during a battle, and neither was he too meticulous to the point of delaying just a little bit like his son." Murmina listened wordlessly, shaking her head in disbelief from even considering there would be someone with more inhuman skill than Rex.

"And it was with his genius that he pierced the pirate king's heart through, cursing it with a love stronger than any Enhambre typhoon."

"Those two almost killed each other when they first met- I still remember the tension of that scene: with Duran on one side, almost about to draw, and Hilda on the other, leaking a choking amount of killing intent."

"Love at first sight?" Beatrice ventured.

"Love isn't as simple as that," Ellis replied. "Although in the case of those two, that incident might've sparked some beast-like tension between the two, as if they each wanted to outdo... conquer the other." Murmina blanched. She'd already declared in her mind that Rex was rival she should surpass. Though it wasn't like she'd ever fall in love with him... "I mean, Duran never seemed to attach himself much to the other two, even when I saw them at their best moments."

"Hilda was no less formidable, incidentally."

"Yes. Surpassing Winfield by many knots. You would've been amazed by her, Murmina."

"I'm sure," Murmina said distantly. Leave it to Beatrice to be completely versed in the lore of the Leonhardts. Though, surpassing Winfield didn't seem that hard a proposition.

There was a thundering sound. Back in front, a gigantic, bellowing monster she knew to be a husward scattered the barricade like toothpicks, barreling straight through.

"Stay!" Rex shouted when the group started to move in. "Let me handle it."

"That idiot." Ignoring his command, Murmina flapped forward on her black wings, her gun already drawn. Rex began some complex maneuvers to dodge the creature's attacks, shooting back all the while.

"Murmina! Stay back!" he said, when he caught sight of her.

"No! You can't handle this beast alone!" She began firing. Rex made an impatient sound just as the beast turned its hate-filled towards her. She continued firing at its vital points, already anticipating a dodging maneuver when she saw the thing charge.

A lance of light exploded through the thing's chest. Murmina watched in adrenaline-soaked shock as the creature collapsed, still impaled through by the energy that shot like a geyser from the barrel of Rex's gun. A moment later it collapsed in a earth-rumbling heap.

"I toldja," Rex said, offering a smile. The light extinguished, Rex holstered his weapon, and approached her. He exhaled loudly. "Nailed fifty-one this battle. How'd you do, Murmina?" She sank back to the ground, her knees failing her and kneaded her forehead.

Rex, it turned out, wasn't only just a "pretty good shot." He was somewhat of a connoisseur of all guns, and would always present the schematics his ancestor's group had gathered over the years to whatever blacksmith they visited. Being the only other who was remotely connected to that subject, she was naturally always invited by the hero to accompany him. It was hard to refuse; there was literally nothing for her to do in town.

"I don't understand," Murmina told him one time, after they'd put in orders for repairs to some broken equipment. "I was under the impression you've some powerful guns inherited from your sires. Why the need to visit any blacksmith at all?"

"You'd be surprised, as I was, if you were to discover your father and you grandfather had more than enough time in their hands to leave behind sketches of their dream guns." he said, a wistful gleam in his eye. "And I see the genius behind each one. Too bad there isn't anyone on this Continent who has the skills to recreate it." He paused. "Not even Ganz, but please don't tell him that."

"I won't."

"But speaking of my collection, have I ever told you about this?" he indicated the gun he had on him. "It was Mom's personal flintlock. It was known by a different name when it was still worn by Enhambre's Pirate King, but now I call it 'Good Omen'. A bit heavy, but that's because it's inlaid by all sorts of fancy ornamental stuff. Barrel makes a loud, booming noise like a, sort of like a, thunderstorm at sea. I also chose it because it has hands down the best grip out of everything in the armory. It's all grooved like-you can see these grooves here, and they sort of hook themselves, painlessly, to my palm, so then it feels really snug and secure in my hand, and you know it's kind of important to maintain a strong grip especially if you're wallowing in monster goo like most of our battles and you know that one last shot will decide everything."

When she got to wandering into the armory he'd mentioned, Murmina was once again met by an enthusiastic Rex. He carried a chest which, when he opened it, revealed a set of gleaming pistols with varying sizes and make. A few spare casings rattled at the bottom as he took each gun out for inspection.

"I don't even know what this does." Even Murmina knew, at a glance, that the weapon was foul. A black aura seemed to surround it, and it had a design that seemed to evoke dread: writhing demon-like figures, a grotesque, grinning skull and two scarlet gemstones that pulsed with some strange light. It seemed to her that it was only when it was in Rex's hand that it looked inert, its darkness withdrawn into itself. She shuddered to even think of touching it. "Ellis said it was my grandma's courtship present to grandpa. Something rare she found in some ruins... he never tried firing it, and my dad never tried too. But I guess if I really wanted to..."

She reached out a hand. "I think the world has had enough of terrifying menaces without you adding to it. Please. Don't ever fire it. Ever." He shrugged, replacing the gun inside the chest.

"You know, that's exactly what my mom said to dad about this thing, or so they said." She thought she was beginning to relate with Rex's so-called mother. "Ah, now here's a good one-my dad's. It's the one I used before I discovered the Good Omen's grip. Dad never named it; he never was one much for names. But I called it the Peacemaker, back when I used to love its tremendous rate of fire. It can hold three bullets in this chamber thing before reloading! And it can even be reloaded with a canister of three bullets! Doesn't that sound amazing? They said dad used to have chests filled with those reload canisters. Most of them got lost overboard in a storm a long time ago, though, and sadly dad never wrote down the schematics to make these. I gotta say it really made me think the gun worse than it actually was when I was still doing target practice with boulders."

She took the gun, headed outside, spotted Winfield with her sharp eyes, and shot twice at a spot above his head. The man cursed and ducked like a turtle's head retreating into its shell, though that didn't stop her from tracking his head down and shooting the last bullet right above it.

"Huh." she said, the barrel smoking. Almost everyone at camp was rushing to the scene of the cowering Winfield. "That _is_ convenient."

"Isn't it?" Rex said, ushering her back into the armory. "But next time, please say something before randomly shooting people. I know we don't have the luxury of setting up targets, and I know Winfield kind of deserves it, and he _is _kind of immortal and gets routinely destroyed with a daily basis..."

Murmina smiled, then quickly caught herself. She'd almost found herself going along with his cheerful attitude, away from the brooding she needed to focus on her vengeance.

Well, it wasn't like talking about guns, something she was familiar with, could invoke an atmosphere that was anywhere remotely congenial. Weapons of war! Killers at the hands of killers! Nothing romantic!

**Dandalugan Fort**

"Those peashooters may as well be shooting actual peas, little mortal," Vashtor said smirking, as the darkness around him absorbed her shots. Not even her great hatred could drive the bullets home to its target. "Your pitiful attacks are nothing to one such as I."

Biting down a frustrated growl, she reloaded, fading into the back as the rest of her group began charging up their own attacks. Zerva clashed weapons with the Gurg, mouthing something about betrayal, while Vira-Lorr began chanting some sort of spell.

"Everyone, positions!" With Rex's yell, Zerva and the others pulled back. Bolts of pure light crashed into Vashtor like the anger of a scorned sun. The barrage lasted for well nigh a minute before letting up. Through the settling smoke, she saw Vashtor's form still standing, still unharmed. Suddenly there came a creaking sound, whereupon the hated Gurg seemed to sink into the floor of his castle.

"What base trickery is this?" the villain said angrily, who began to climb out of the center of the crater that formed from the barrage. "Manipulating the terrain is something I taught Ladius, whelps! I-" Vashtor's bluster was cut short when he froze just as he was about to clamber up on his left leg. Through some technique, Rex had been transported by Beatrice from his vantage point down towards Vashtor's position, and was now aiming his gun - his grandmother's gun she saw - squarely at his lower vitals.

"What... is... that...?" Vashtor said, breaking the silence. His face still looked impassive, but only fools couldn't tell there were some gears desperately turning behind that twitching visage.

"Thanks, Beatrice. Leave the rest to me now," Rex said in the meantime, punctuating her name with a wink in the ninja's direction. Beatrice flushed and scurried off with head bowed. She ran over to her grandfather, who gave her a discreet thumbs up.

"You remember this, don't you?" Rex drawled, his arm never once moving from its crotch-threatening angle.

"Vaguely," Vashtor said through gritted teeth.

"Oh come on, you remember. Sharona," and here he flashed a grateful smile over his shoulder to the syrium, who was incidentally standing right behind Murmina. Sharona waved, and Murmina couldn't help but feel self-conscious. "-told me of Thoma coming in to consult you on its properties, unsure if he should show how much he appreciated his love's gift by replacing his weapon with it. By the end of the conversation she saw you'd gone pale, paler than you were usually. You didn't know what it was. I suspect you didn't even want to know."

"She might have seen me wrong. Why should I need to fear a weapon forged of dark?"

"Well, pish-posh and all that. The past doesn't matter. What matters is now." Murmina thought she was seeing things in the darkness of the room, but the jewels on the weapon seemed to grow a brighter, more sinister sheen. "Now I know what you're thinking. Is something that reeks this much of darkness really going to harm me, or would it instead grant me untold power?" Rex smiled, as if they were just chatting amicably over tea, though the steel in his voice never wavered and even intensified with each word he said. "Will that child even fire that thing? _Can _he even fire it? Would it perhaps not consume him instead, punishing him for his presumptuousness?

"So while you're thinking about that, think about this: I've got this wedding gift aimed such that in the former case it'd blow your crotch to the void before yes, driving you straight to the beyond; or else give you untold ecstasy, but you'll be feeling the sting of it downstairs for centuries to come. I've weighed my risks and I'm feeling lucky today: since I've got a feeling it's leaning more to the former. Now I put the question to you: are _you_ feeling lucky today, Vashtor? Well, are ya?"

Silence filled the room. _Kill him now_, she thought.

"Very well," said Vashtor, bowing. "I shall yield." _What?_

"Noah my dear," she heard Sharona murmur as she dashed forward. "You'd be so proud of him right now."

**On the road to Barzakh**

She thought love a foolish thing. It made one lose focus in one's goals. It made one so unbearably sappy. Worse still, were the secret loves. These were almost always unrequited; kept safe in the bosom inside a treasure chest whose key even the owner forgets. When the love is discouraged, it doesn't disappear so much as explode, leaving a large, treasure chest-shaped hole behind.

Though she cursed sweet, sweet love, she also cherished it. It made the world seem that much brighter and full of color. It sharpened one's surroundings and battle awareness, particularly in the field of fiery desire when one knows one isn't alone in the race for the prize. It gave meaning to her life she thought meaningless when she no longer had a goal, even when the target of her longing had been the one to take it from her by sparing that vicious Gurg and even more, convincing her to extinguish her hatred.

What aggravated her, and probably every other girl she suspected of liking the same man as she, was his own indifference to it all, to all the feelings swarming around the group like honeybees. He threw around compliments and well wishes freely and earnestly, as if meaning couldn't be found behind his smiles, touches and winks; meaning couldn't be found, because what one saw was what one got. At the moment there was no guile in the master gunman's intentions, no subtlety to uncover, no dissembling of truth. He just seemed to _be._

"I think it's what made Winfield what he was," said Ellis once, when a chance intersection of fates brought all the women to the same place in the same tavern one afternoon. "The guns. And now everyone descended from Thoma's loins all seem like him."

"Duran wasn't so bad," Plum pointed out.

"'Where my words can't reach, my bullets will'," said Qua in a faux deep voice that seemed to imitate Rex's father's. She mimed twirling a gun around her finger.

Sharona cackled. "I'd almost forgotten he used to do that."

"I thought it was just an overdose of self-confidence," said Plum. "I also thought it cute coming from him."

"Which is, I think, part of the charm," said Vira-Lorr. She took a sip. "The same kind of charm his father -and now his son - had."

"Come now," said Reverie. "Are you sure you didn't sense the viciousness hiding behind that debonair exterior? I do not know how it was with Thoma, but I believe the son was as much a predator as his father, if only a tad subtler."

"It's most likely the neocollom blood," said Sharona, "-combine it with a fearlessness borne of a true adventurer, and you get our favorite lone wolf."

"Oh, oh, what if you add a little of a pirate's bloodthirst? What does that make huh?" said Qua.

"Someone I'd dearly love to meet," said Vira-Lorr. She raised a brow. "This is someone hypothetical you're speaking of right? Not someone whose secrets I know just as well as the contours of his buttocks from all the years of changing his linens?"

"I personally think it takes much more than that to define one person. The perfect warrior is useless without a just and kind heart, and the will to see his duties through," Ellis said. She was about to say something more but ended with a sigh, shaking her head as if to dismiss something depressing. A few of the women simpered, knowing their companion well. "... It brings me back to the guns. Has to be it. Neither Leo nor Ladifour ever had the audacity of their heirs."

"In the end, it matters not," said Murmina firmly, finally joining in the conversation. Beatrice had just been staring starry eyed all throughout, as if running through the heroic images in her head. "The time will come when I shall seek redress for some... questionable things Rex has done. But I shall seek it only after the darkness is vanquished. And so I leave issues of frivolity for later. I expect you all to do the same. Or at least, try and focus on the goal instead of prattling on about men all the time."

"Now hold on there," protested Plum. "I understand what you're saying my dear, but don't go chiding us off on the fun we're having now. We have been committed to this quest for probably longer than you. It is not as if Rex has become the center of our lives."

"But you were practically glowing when I saw you teaching Rex about some runes you found," Murmina said flatly.

"Hah!" Qua pointed triumphantly at a flush-faced nelth. "I knew it!"

"And whose tail was wagging excitedly when he was carrying you that one time you got injured?" Qua's laughter subsided, as she turned, silent and still as a pouncing tiger, to her.

"And you!" Murmina continued, pointing to Reverie. "I heard every word of every moment you enjoyed bathing in the sea with him back at the new harbor!"

"I did enjoy it," the yulishee said, fluttering her eyes in the manner of a warship's bristling broadsides. "He is an excellent swimmer."

"Don't be so eager to protest too much, dearie," Vira-Lorr said, fixing all of her eyes on her teasingly. "Don't think we haven't noticed you taking up too much of the leader's time having those little 'talks' at the armory."

"Those were hardly romantic in nature! We were simply discussing the merits of this and that weapon-"

"I have observed that the way you talk with him within the confines of that tent is significantly different in terms of tone, timbre and inflection from the way you talk with him and with everyone outside. It might be conjectured-"

"Hey, stop it Beatrice!" she said hotly. She blinked. "Wait a second, you were there-?!"

"So, young defendant," Sharona said, grinning like a hungry were-cat sighting prey. "How do you plead?"

Whatever counter-attack she wanted to muster was interrupted by a voice calling her name, whereupon the tavern door banged open to reveal Rex.

"Murmina, there you are."

"Not now, I'm busy." Her rough response seemed to catch him by surprise. He scrunched his eyes, as if seeing the rest of the girls inside for the first time.

"Oh, did you have something else to do today? Good afternoon everyone." After a general, rather enthusiastic response from everyone, Rex turned back to Murmina. "I guess I'll be going then." He made to turn around, but then paused from a sudden thought. "I gotta say though, I was really looking forward to it. I mean, you were the one who suggested we meet, after all. Ah well." He made one final wave to the rest of his party, stepped out, and closed the door gently behind him.

She let out a long, loud, long-suffering breath. Catching sight of a roomful of accusing eyes, she clucked her tongue. After opening her mouth as if to say something to break the discomfiting silence, she abruptly turned to bound out the door.

**Barzakh**

"We can't hold out much longer! Where's Rex?" Summerill, lord of darkness and mastermind of all the things that had happened to their group enforced his terrifying presence upon them all. Even the purest light dwelling in her heart were slowly being suffocated by the source of evil. Her mind whispered to her, traitorous thoughts all, of the Spirit Vessel's desertion, of Rex's loyalty to no one but himself, of her friend's disregard for her own feelings, of their own ignorance of the grand power they so blindly challenged in its own home.

"Keep steady! Though he seems strong, he is still weakened by the presence of a power greater than he!" yelled Borgnine, his monstrous profile set in grim defiance.

"The fact that I have not annihilated you, foolish larva, is that your prolonged suffering will amuse me more than your swift death. I shall weave your desperate screams into the wind and scatter it in all directions, so that all who hear it shall know of Summerill's might, of the folly of light, of my final triumph- Ow!" For a moment, the storm abated, and it was as if she'd descended from flying up in an airless height. The next moment it returned, but through the haze she heard something whizz above her, whereupon a loud boom punctured the shroud of evil once more.

"Insolent mortal! Your attacks are but stinging flies! You will never match-"

_Whoosh! Bang! _A louder explosion this time, and the evil receded so much that she could now stand, along with the others. She saw Summerill, his spider-like form hunched on the ground as he cupped his hand against his face.

There was a distinct clicking sound, and Murmina whirled to catch Rex a long ways behind, calmly taking aim with a gun. There were some pistols at his feet, and she thought she could recognize-

Light erupted from the barrel, blinding her. Summerill screamed.

"Bug!... Cease your impudent... futile... efforts...! I-"

Rex took out another, far more familiar gun. Murmina recognized the dread device immediately, as did Vashtor, whom she'd swear had just shrieked quietly. It took a second for the rest of the group to recognize it.

"I WILL DESTROY YOU-"

"Hit the deck!" someone shouted, and they all splayed themselves against the ground, fearing the worst and praying for the best. There was a loud crackle, as of thunder rolling through the clouds, and then a sharp, single whirring. She felt her feathers ruffling in the sharp wind, all her nerves trilling from whatever it was that Rex fired.

"Noooooo!"

All of them stared up as Summerill, a hole where his face had been, dissolved into light. Soon after, they'd won.

Before they could take a deep breath and cheer, celebrating their great victory, she heard Dyshana shout, "Are you as foolish as you look, Rex?"

That was the first hint of emotion anyone had heard from Dyshana. She marched to the boy who was smiling sheepishly, tossing away the smoking gun.

"Hey, I made it."

"I contained much of the corruption that would have spread from that weapon's firing. It flew as a shadow to the light you cast and now runs free, unchecked. It lingers now, and it is something so foreign that I cannot even comprehend it and estimate its effect on the world. If I weren't here-"

"Well, isn't it fate that has thus now made it not so? That has brought you here, at the end of my journey that it might aid us here and now, where even I could have failed? But in any case, thanks, Dyshana. I'll take responsibility for whatever this weapon unleashed."

"...You could have been hurt. You could've died," Dyshana said softly, her anger leaking out like water from a cracked jar. "That thing was clearly dangerous. Do you not realize how people might feel if you-"

Murmina, and quite a few others she didn't have time to glance at, groaned when Rex stepped forward, and in one smooth movement drew Dyshana in by her shoulder, leaned in and kissed her.

Winfield made a sharp whistling sound.

_Shoot her,_ said a voice that seemed much like what Summerill's evil had said. _Her back's completely exposed! Shoot! _Dyshana, red-faced, breathless and uncharacteristically smiling after he broke the kiss didn't quite help the suppression of the evil voice that wanted to skewer that presumptuous bitch. And judging by Sharona clucking her tongue behind her, she wasn't the only one thinking that way.


	5. Because Screw Eugenics

Author's Note: This is a Shurpuff work, done by **Shurpuff**, nephew of **Merlin**, owner of this account, used with his permission.

Agarest War Generations does not belong to me, but to its owners.

A bit short and rushed this time. Almost wanted to go "genetic engineering" method, but I don't got to explain it like that because MAGIC. Will have a more serious story next week.

* * *

"I have a feeling they misunderstood something," said Dyshana.

"Whatever do you mean?" said Vira-Lorr. The stoic woman never spoke out of turn; she never spoke at all, unless it was to dispense her counsel on various matters related to Leon's quest. When she did deign speak, it was always in the manner of one declaring judgment upon the man's actions, and not about the state of the weather or the beauty of the forest.

"Tell me," the woman said, turning her unreadable gaze upon the oneltes. "Why does the dancer persist in her actions?"

"Luana? What is it about her?"

"She persists her attempts to charm the Spirit Vessel. As well, the syrium continues to impose her presence upon Leonhardt. And that soldier's constant invitations to her tent…"

"Ah," said Vira-Lorr. Frankly it was obvious from the get-go how the three arbitrarily chosen by Dyshana to be destined for Leonhardt would warm up to him over time, eventually giving heed to the passions in their heart. "They like him. It's as simple as that. It's a mortal thing—finding a mate, wooing the mate, consummating, etcetera, etcetera."

"I am aware of the processes that revolve around the reproduction of the mortal races," said Dyshana. _That was a mouthful, _Vira-Lorr thought. "But Leo is a special case."

"That contract, I presume?" While the details were vague, everyone in the party, even young Ellis, were aware of the expectations Dyshana had set down for the Golden Leo. "Isn't it fine? It's three times the chance for your demands to be satisfied without difficulty. Leonhardt will find it hard to fail with all the attention he's getting from those three."

"That is the misunderstanding I refer to," said Dyshana.

"Oh?"

Dyshana turned to look back at their makeshift camp, where Luana was dancing around the bonfire. Winfield watched her eagerly from the side as Ellis nodded and clapped to the sounds the dancer made with the instruments in her hand. Leo stood nearby, at the entrance of his tent, the light from the fire hiding where his sight lay. "The need for a force powerful enough to counter the darkness cannot be molded through mortal means. That is why I brought Leonhardt back. You are familiar with alchemy, yes?" She gazed at Vira-Lorr.

"I don't dabble in it myself, but I'm familiar with the concept." Unfortunately the study of alchemy in Lucrellia had long been married to the feverish study of life and death. She remembered encountering a merchant's bodyguard who'd been crafted entirely of steel and who'd been given life through alchemy.

"Then you are aware of its most powerful art: the revival of dead souls."

"They can do that?" Vira-Lorr said, visibly shaken. Dyshana replied with a short silence, and that was all she needed to know.

"It is an art only known to a few, and certainly not achievable through mortal means." Dyshana trailed off, and looked like she was thinking to herself for a few moments. "Continuing, the other side of the coin, to put it in terms you can understand, is the materialization of life. New life. Life wholly unfettered from a previous existence. Genesis."

"So you're saying alchemy can assist in the creation of life?"

"It is never studied by those who dabble in the art, for mortals already function well in that regard. Their bodies are primed, with the right amount of conditions, for producing a new life."

"So what are you getting at? I'm guessing that's what you'd like Leo and someone else to do right?"

Dyshana chose not to answer that, instead replying along a different tack. "Returning to my assertion that a Spirit Vessel must be made powerful enough to resist the darkness, the means by which I shall effect that particular alchemy will_ not _be decided by the biological functions of the mortal races, but by a procedure almost alchemical in nature."

"They're not to make babies?" She was sure Winfield being here would have loved to hear her saying that.

"When the time comes," said Dyshana, who paused and cocked her head at Vira-Lorr. "I have spoken too much. I request that you not speak to Leonhardt nor the others about what I have said. Do not jeopardize our last hopes against the coming darkness."

"I know." Vira-Lorr said grimly. All she'd ever seen with her foresight since shortly before meeting Leo had been an endless lightless horizon.

Dyshana's reticence turned out to be somewhat justified. At the pillar that sealed one of the gods of darkness, Dyshana finally took the time to explain the process of "genesis" to the rest of the party, after which Ellis was overcome with tears and even Winfield was filled with horror.

Although Ellis and Zerva were hotly against their going through with it, each for their own reasons, and Winfield wasn't too keen on it too. For herself, had Dyshana told her about it before, she knew she would have informed Leonhardt. As it was, though she had her reservation upon the matter, Vira-Lorr was silent.

"The ritual will transfigure the essences of the Spirit Vessel and the Three Maidens who will accompany him. They shall become the Seal's Catalyst and Components, respectively. It will then extract the necessary energy from the newly formed Seal and transmute it into a creative force, which I shall personally use to create a new being."

"I have to admit," Winfield said, breaking the silence that had fallen, "That's damn lucky of the guy. Three women at once?"

"They won't be 'enjoying' it as much as you think, you boorish man," Vira-Lorr pointed out icily.

"Does this mean you will create a twisted parody of an entity to serve your ends?" Zerva spat.

"No. You do not understand the nature of the magics I shall be using." Dyshana gazed archly at the tall syrium. "This is not simple alchemy of the soul. This is a Miracle of the Gods. Creation of life. Upon the ritual's end there shall be born a small existence, holding the combined strengths—and weaknesses—of those who came before. It will be as any mortal, only without the need to wait a length of time for a child to be conceived and carried to term. And it shall have, as an addition, a divine spark to aid their responsibilities as Spirit Vessels."

"You presume to ape the Gods then, woman? What is this madness?" demanded Zerva.

"This is unfair to Leo and Fyuria and Luana and Elaine!" Ellis added.

"No, Zerva. I do not presume to be a God. But I shall be able to accomplish the ritual just the same, as if it were truly a God who effected it." Dyshana glanced at her fleetingly, and it seemed that she was about to say something further when Zerva spoke.

"You will not use my sister like that, woman!" he said furiously.

"Ultimately, it is her choice, mortal. I expect you will respect that above all." With that, Zerva had stalked away, leaving them in a tense silence.

In the end, it had been Leo who decided it. His agreement to Dyshana's proposal spurred on the Maidens' agreement, and dispelled the misgivings the others felt. Convincing Zerva, in particular, took almost an entire month to convince, and it was only when he was made to see the brutality of those who served the darkness, while at the same time seeing the beauty of the sacrifice his sister was willing to make. Vira-Lorr didn't know how Leonhardt had managed to do it in the end—she'd heard that there had been a "man-to-man" of sorts between the two at the apex of their quest, but did not want to pry in what seemed to be an affair where men were the only ones who could ascribe meaning to it.

Vira-Lorr had seen to Ellis, comforting the girl when she could. Had she been in her place, she knew she would have been wracked by severe guilt over being partially responsible for the fate Leonhardt had drawn for himself. She also had frequent heart-to-hearts with the other women, and those were painful, yet necessary moments she would never share to anyone, not even the Gods, nor Leo. No amount of eternity would let him fully understand the depths of a woman's heart.

And so, six weeks after the Dark Knight's defeat, Leo and the Three made themselves ready for the ritual. At the base of the massive pillar that could be seen from anywhere in Lucrellia, four noble souls sacrificed their lives to strengthen a god's prison, whereupon one precious treasure—a bawling naked child-was born from the willing union of all their souls.

They named him Ladius.

After him came three more generations of supermen, each almost exceeding the last in strength, skill, and potential in the eyes of Dyshana as a Spirit Vessel.

Ladius was a master swordsman, almost surpassing Vashtor and his own father in that respect. What made him arguably better than them, however, was his unrivalled skill with all other forms of weaponry, for which he was known as Ladius the Weaponmaster. In full battle-gear, Ladius had a number of weapons attached to his armor: a spear in hand, his father's sword at his side, daggers at his forearms and boots. And all throughout their travels, he was unencumbered by these, as if such steel were merely extensions of his own body. He could fight with two weapons in each hand, he could fight with one hand tied behind his back—he could fight with no weapon at all, pounding the forces of darkness into submission with his fists alone. One would think such qualities would only make him seem a dumb brute, but Ladius learned the art of negotiation and culture from Zerva and the rest, which had helped make him worthy of the noble title he was granted. He'd even written his own story in the difficult syrium text, though Sharona was to comment that it was a dry account of two armies clashing in a battlefield.

Thoma, for all his perceived faults by the womenfolk of Fendias, which included his comrades and the Maidens he met, was an unquestioned, unequalled potency in the arcane arts. He accomplished it through rigorous study at a young age—motivated, Winfield had confessed later, by the notion taught by his mentor that the intelligent man won more ladies than the uncivilized brute. Through the potential he inherited, his spells threatened to unravel the tapestry of the land. Whatever his spells touched did not just disintegrate: they simply ceased to be. He was a voracious scholar of the texts the party found: scrolls from his mother's land of Yamato, tomes of theory from Gridamas, Grugundian books looted from the castle's library, the forest-lore of the ryulents, the writings on smithery from greer Masters, the few pieces of nelth treatises on enchantments Plum was willing to divulge, and even the heretical books of the Dark worshippers. Of course, he was taught the art of combat which he, as his father, learned readily. But he was a sorcerer to the core—ending the ambitions of Midas with a twitch of his finger. At the end he left behind him not just the heir to his grandfather's contract, he also gave to Vira-Lorr all his writings: his own musings and descriptions of the magic he possessed, as well as sheaves upon sheaves of (admittedly well-written) smut tightly bound together with vine. The last she consigned to the depths of the party's trove.

Duran was not as committed nor as obnoxious as his forebears. He had prodigious skill in both physical and magical arts, but he chose to cultivate neither, disdaining his quest altogether. It was an addition to his stated reluctance to carry on the destiny laid upon him by Dyshana's contract. Each day of their journey was spent cajoling, encouraging and prodding the young man to action. In battle, he had neither a ready sword to draw nor magics to unleash, but a simple dagger which he used to finish off weakened enemies with a disinclined air. It was only during the final year of the Enhambre campaign, when he met the first woman Dyshana declared as "chosen", that he shrugged off his self-imposed shackles and began to act as the hero he was destined to be. Too ingrained with his mentor Alberti's teachings, Duran utilized his potential to fuel his agility, dashing from enemy to enemy in a dance of flashing steel, landing strikes into vulnerable spots with unerring accuracy. But as ever, Duran disliked direct confrontation, instead preferring to stalk deep into the enemy lines, locating an encampment and then cripple the enemy a its weakest: the head. Not even the threat of the more powerful huswards could deter his silent blade—a generation before Beatrice's miraculous coup at Camp Burbzon Duran single-handedly dispatched two huswards and ten gurgs at a major camp, scattering the enemy before battle could be joined. It was he who sneaked into the pirate base and stuck his dagger in Vlady's treacherous heart, it had been Duran who'd held off the misguided Keith's blade with a broken dagger. Vashtor himself underestimated Duran's speed, as he was foolish enough to hold Ellis at sword-point when Duran dashed in to extract her from the villain's grasp in the blink of an eye. But in the end, Dyshana decided that it was yet enough, and it was then that Duran and the Maidens fully embraced their destinies.

And then there was Rex.

Much later, when Chaos was but a blip in their memory, Vira-Lorr walked up to Dyshana and whispered, "I know full well of the need we had for a decisive counter to the Dark, but don't you think this was all a little too much? The boy's practically a god!"

"There is yet a duty for him to accomplish," she said. "One final ritual will ensure the continued existence of this world. There will be one last Seal." Dyshana gave her a pointed look. "There will be one more child." Comprehension dawned within Vira-Lorr.

"Are you kidding me?!" Winfield roared much later. "With all you gathered there, what kind of monster's gonna come out?"

"I think you're just mad everyone, including Dyshana, decided to join in," Fer remarked. "More importantly, we should decide who gets to raise super baby. You guys partial to flipping for it?"

The millennia of turmoil in Agarest ended in the creation of a brand new land, as well as one child, brimming with divine potential.


End file.
